Meet Cute - Page 31

I was close with both of my parents, but my dad and I had a special relationship. He was the one I always went to for advice, and in those years after my mother passed, that closeness deepened, and then he was gone, too.

I run my fingers across the petals of the daisies. “I’ve been taking on pro bono custody cases. I think you’d be proud, Dad. I kept a little girl from being bounced around in the system like I was. She has two amazing parents who love her just like you loved me. And now I’m working with a little boy and his foster family hoping to do the same.”

I swallow back the tears, aware I’m stalling and Hope isn’t the reason I’m here. If my dad were alive and not just a memory, he’d be waiting patiently for me to get to the damn point with a smile on his face.

“I met someone, but it’s complicated. He lost his parents recently, and he has a little sister he has to take care of now. It reminds me a lot of the way we were after Mom passed. Sort of. This is different, though. I think I like him.”

I close my eyes, picturing my dad’s face, the way his brow would quirk and that small grin he’d wear, as if he knew I was leaving something out before I admitted it.

“No. That’s not true. I more than like him. We have something and it scares me. For the first time since I lost you I feel . . . grounded. I mean, you know how much I love hugs.” I laugh and roll my eyes. “But with Dax I feel safe. Protected maybe? And I’m needed.”

I can hear my dad’s But? in my head.

“If I bring him over to my firm, I’ll make partner before I’m thirty, just like I promised I would, but I’m not sure if I want that anymore, at least not as much as I want to keep this feeling.”

I try to get a handle on my emotions as tears slip down my cheeks. “I don’t want to disappoint you, but I don’t want my job to be the only thing that has meaning for me, and I don’t think you’d want me to do that. I’m a little scared of the way I feel about this man. I used to have such a crush on him as a teenager, Dad, and then for the longest time I hated him, or thought I did. But now that I’ve gotten a chance to really know him, the real him, it’s different. He’s such an incredible man, although I don’t think he realizes it.

“But I worry I’m just a comfort for him and he only wants to be with me because I understand what he’s going through. I’m in a lot deeper than I meant to be. I’ve been so reluctant to let anyone else into my heart because I’m not sure I can handle another big loss. I know how hard it was for you when we lost Mom, and your heart never really recovered from that, did it? Eventually it gave out on us.” I consider the truth in that statement. How after my mom passed my dad seemed so lost in life without her, and how awful it was to be unable to find a way to bring his light back. “I think I’m falling for him, for both of them, and the possibility of having that is frightening, but I don’t know if I can walk away. I just . . . I want to do the right thing, but I’m not sure what that is anymore. I wish you were still here so you could tell me what to do.”

The breeze ruffles the leaves on a nearby tree, and the blossoms float through the air like scented snowflakes, landing in my hair and my lap. Silence and stillness follow.

“I miss you both.” I kiss my fingers and touch each stone before I leave, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.

I try to ignore my phone as it buzzes on my desk. If I don’t check the messages immediately, I somehow believe I have control over what’s happening with Dax.

Holly was right when she said I needed to be careful, that it’s not just my heart that could end up broken.

The more I see how difficult his job is, the more convinced I am that coming to Whitman is what’s best for him and Emme, regardless of whether I make partner.

The policy on interoffice dating is a problem, though. Even worse, I have no idea how he’d react if he found out about the deal I made with Beverly. My head’s a mess, and with everything that’s happened, I’m no longer sure what I’m doing. Other than avoiding. Even the moral gray line I’m treading isn’t enough of a deterrent, which says a lot about my feelings for him.

The phone buzzes again and I bang on my keyboard, nonsense letters running together. “Hold your ground,” I mutter. But it’s useless. My fingers are itching to reach out and grab it. I check the clock and force myself to wait two more minutes. When I finally do, I find that the messages aren’t from Dax, as I expect, but his sister.

Emme: What ru doin this wknd?

Emme: I have girl prob

I frown as I study the messages, as if looking at them will unveil the issue. My first instinct is to call, but teen girls tend to rely on texting, so I fire off a message instead.

Kailyn: What kind of girl prob?

It takes a few minutes before I get a response.

Emme: I need to go shopping n Dax wont understand.

We message back and forth until I finally get the entire story. There’s a dance in a few weeks and she wants new clothes. She’s asking me to come shopping with her. Obviously I want to say yes, but I have to talk to Dax first, which means I have to call him.

I haven’t had a full conversation with him since we made out in his kitchen two days ago. I’ve thought about that extended kiss incessantly. I relive it in my head over and over again; the way his hands roamed over my body, the way his lips moved over my skin. I’ve tried not to think about what it would be like to have sex with him. How attentive he would be, how good it would feel. Obviously, I’m unsuccessful.

All of these thoughts flit through my head as I pull up his contact and hit Call. He picks up halfway through the second ring.

“Hello?”

Everything below and above the waist either clenches or perks up. “Hi. Hey. It’s Kailyn.”

His voice is soft like silk. “How are you?”

“Fine. Good. How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m glad you called.”

I bite my lip so I don’t tell him it’s nice to hear his voice.

“Kailyn?”

“Still here, sorry.” I take a breath, grounding myself. “Emme messaged me.”

“Is she okay? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. She’s fine. There’s a school dance coming up. Did you know about it?”

“Oh. Yeah. She mentioned it a couple of times this week. I told her she could go. I mean, it’s good that she wants to do something normal with her friends, right?”

“Yes, definitely, that’s very good.” Everything between us is a little awkward, probably because of me.

“So Emme texted you to talk about a school dance? Did she want advice on boys or something?” His panic is comical.

“Yes, it was about the dance, no, it wasn’t about boy advice. She asked me to take her clothes shopping, and I thought I would run it by you before I said yes.”

“Oh. You don’t have to do that. I can take her.”

“Have you ever taken a thirteen-year-old girl clothes shopping before?”

“No, but how hard can it be? I take her to the mall, she picks out a few things she likes, and we should be good, right?”

“In theory.” He really is adorably clueless about the way girls work. I didn’t even care all that much about fashion as a teenager but when a school dance rolled around, you better believe Holly and I were at the mall, spending whatever money our parents willingly handed over.

“You sound so ominous. It’s just shopping, Kailyn.”

“If you say so. But if you’re okay with it, I’m more than happy to tag along.” I realize I’m twirling my hair around my finger. This is why I wear it up in a bun so often. I pick up a pen and start doodling instead.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I know you have a life, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this because Emme asked.”

“I want to come if you’d like me there.” I tack on the last part to give him an out. The way my heart flutters is worrying.

“Yeah?” He sounds heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“Yeah.”

“She’s been asking about you. She’ll be excited that you can come. I’m glad she messaged you.”

“Me, too. I’ll let her know and we can iron out the details.” I end the call and message Emme with the good news. I get about twenty excited GIFs in response, and we make a plan for Saturday. I head down the hall to the lounge to make myself a coffee.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Beverly comments.

“Hmm?” I look up from my coffee mug.

“You’re humming, and smiling.”

I shrug. “Oh. Just a good day, I guess. Can I make you a coffee?”

“That would be lovely.” She smiles and props her hip against the counter. “How are things with Daxton and his sister? Have you made any headway with him yet?”

My smile falters the tiniest bit. She’s pushing this angle hard, and I’m not so sure how I feel about any of it anymore. “He’s concerned about making another big change right now. Having to interview, switch jobs, manage something new. It’s a lot to take on for him but he sees the benefits. It’s just going to take time.”

58